


You're Like Me

by Doctor_Discord



Series: The Ego Manor [58]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Blood, Bruises, Cinnamon Roll Eric, ERIC IS SO PURE, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Mutilation, Past Character Death, Past Child Abuse, Prophetic Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-12 09:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18443948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctor_Discord/pseuds/Doctor_Discord
Summary: The Host and Eric have a little chat as Dr. Iplier changes their bandages.





	You're Like Me

**Author's Note:**

> *W A R N I N G*
> 
> YO! THIS IS DIRECTLY RELATED TO THE LAST STORY! IF YA COULDN'T READ THAT YOU MIGHT WANNA THINK ABOUT AVOIDING THIS ONE TOO BECAUSE IT DIRECTLY DISCUSSES THOSE EVENTS! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

The Host gently knocked on the door to Dr. Iplier’s office before stepping in, blood staining his face. Dr. Iplier flashed him a smile. “Hey!” He linked his arm with the Host’s, pulling him toward the bed, but the Host stopped him, cupping his face with one hand and pulling him into a sweet kiss. Dr. Iplier made a muffled noise of surprise, but melted all the same. The Host pulled back, grinning cheekily, and Dr. Iplier huffed, tapping his nose. “How do you manage to be so adorable when you’re literally covered in blood?”

The Host chucked, shoving his hands in his pockets as he moved toward the bed. “It’s a gift.”

He heard Dr. Iplier snort. “Eric, move over a bit so the Host can sit down next to you.”

The Host froze at his words, his head tilting to the side sharply as he forced his Sight to flash. Eric was indeed sitting on the bed, his head bowed with a light blush dusting his cheeks as he fidgeted with his hands. His shirt was missing, revealing the layers of bandages completely covering his torso. The Host swallowed, spinning on his heel. “Perhaps the Host should come back later, when others are not present. He would rather not show Eric what he has done to himself, especially not after what he has just gone through.”

He attempted to walk out, but then Dr. Iplier was placing a hand on his chest, pushing him back toward the bed. “Oooh no you don’t, you’re staying put. I know you, you’ve probably let that blood sit there for a while  _despite_  me  _constantly_ telling you that  _all_  bleeding is serious and you should come to me  _immediately_.” He punctuated certain words with a sharp jab to the Host’s chest, and then he sighed, taking one of the Host’s hands in his own. “I know you don’t like taking your bandages off around other people, but it’s better Eric see it for the first time  _here_  instead of when you’re in the middle of a vision or it’s some other emergency. It’ll be okay. Besides, Eric’s here for the same reason you are, to get his bandages changed. It won’t take long.”

The Host hummed, wringing his hands, but reluctantly moved back toward the bed, sitting down next to Eric. He fidgeted nervously, and Dr. Iplier sighed again. “Alright, Eric, arms up. I’m gonna let your bruises breathe for a bit while I take care of the Host.” The Host felt Eric shift, and then Dr. Iplier’s familiar warmth was pressing against him as he unwound Eric’s bandages, cursing his cast all the while.

When he stepped back, the Host flinched as his Sight flashed again, and he took in Eric’s battered body. His bruises were healing nicely, but that left his body looking horrific with the mottled colors of sickly green, yellow, and blue. Eric glanced at him, still not saying a word as he continued to fiddle with his hands. “The Host –” His voice cracked, the image of Eric burned into his mind. “The Host apologizes for what Eric had to go through. If the Host had Seen it, if he had known it was coming, he may not have been able to prevent it, but it would not have gone on as long as it did.”

He could feel the alarm radiating off of Eric. “No! No, it’s not your fault, please don’t think like that! I…If anything it’s mine. I…I didn’t exactly put up a fight. He never hesitated to tell me how  _worthless_ I was because of that fact. Besides, you can’t possibly be expected to know  _everything_. It’s…you can’t take all of our fates on your shoulders like that.”

“He’s right, and you know it.” Dr. Iplier reappeared from wherever he had gone off to, picking at the knot behind the Host’s head. “I’ve been telling you that for years. And Eric, it’s not  _your_  fault either. You can’t blame yourself for being abused like you were. It’s no one’s fault but Derek’s, and he is  _long_  dead at this point.”

The Host frowned, unconvinced. “But that is  _exactly_  what is expected of the Host. To know things. To know  _everything_.”

Dr. Iplier huffed. “That is expected by no one but yourself. And maybe Dark. But you  _have_  the power to tell Dark to fuck right off, you just never do.” He made a triumphant noise as the knot finally fell away, and he peeled away the sticky, soaked cloth.

The Host turned his head as best he could, but he still heard Eric suck in a harsh gasp as Dr. Iplier began dabbing at the blood drying on his face with a cotton ball dipped in disinfectant. “Oh…oh my  _God_ , what  _happened_ …I-I-I mean, I  _know_  what happened, a-a-a little bit, at least. It was…the Author, right?”

The Host flinched violently at the mention of that name, causing Dr. Iplier to smear blood all across his cheek. “The Host would prefer if Eric not say that name. But…yes. He is correct. The Author tore his own eyes out. The wounds are self-inflicted.”

He heard Eric swallow. “How…how long have you been like this?”

“Going on six years.”

He heard Eric shift. “How does the whole…‘you’ and ‘ _him_ ’ thing work? Because…the Jims said that  _you_  used to  _be_  him…”

The Host went rigid as Dr. Iplier began to reach inside his socket, the doctor muttering furiously under his breath about letting the blood settle. “The Author was who the Host was initially created as. He was sadistic and manipulatively, thriving off others’ pain and delighting in causing it himself. But then the visions started, and it drove the Author mad. In a fit of desperation, he ripped his own eyes out of his skull so he wouldn’t see the visions any longer. But when he did that…something about his very soul began to shift. He wasn’t the Author anymore. Dr. Iplier helped pull the Host out of the ashes the Author left behind.”

Eric gasped again. “You were  _there?!_ ”

The Host didn’t have to see to know that Dr. Iplier was grimacing; he could tell by the way his hand shook a little, his body tensing. “I was. I watched him rip his optic nerve right out of his skull. The guy actually held a conversation with me  _while_  he was doing it. I didn’t know anything was wrong till he mentioned he was hemophilic.” Dr. Iplier paused. “You know, you’re taking this quite well. Most of the others flipped their shit when they saw his empty sockets for the first time. Most of them cried.”

Eric stifled a giggle, much to the Host’s surprise. “Did Ed?”

Dr. Iplier snorted. “Oh yeah, Bim too. King and Silver were like human waterfalls. Google will forever deny he teared up, but glowing blue liquid coming your face is hard to ignore.” Eric giggled again, and the Host actually cracked a smile. “Not even Dark can handle it very well. He cringes every time. The only ones of us who don’t respond much are me, because I’m just used to the sight at this point, Wilford, for some odd reason, and now you.”

Dr. Iplier began wrapping the Host’s socket in fresh bandages. As much as Eric  _not_  cringing horribly at the sight of him was a welcome surprise, the Host still sighed with relief once they were finally covered. Dr. Iplier pressed a kiss to his forehead, running a hand through his hair. “There, see? I told you it wouldn’t be so bad. Now can you help me put the ointment on Eric? I can’t do it well enough on my own with this damn cast.”

The Host chuckled, pressing a kiss to the back of Dr. Iplier’s free hand. “Perhaps then Dr. Iplier has learned his lesson about wearing his head mirror 24/7.”

Dr. Iplier huffed. “Yeah yeah, you already chewed me out the hospital, stop pointing out how stupid I am and help me take care of the kid.”

Eric laughed again, obediently raising his arms as the Host began to rub the antibacterial ointment gently onto his body, muttering fluid narrations under his breath so he knew what he was doing. He could sense the curiosity rolling off Eric in waves, and he raised an eyebrow, pausing in his narrations. “The Host asks Eric to say what is on his mind. He can feel his curiosity.”

“…Why do you do that? The speaking thing. You’re just…saying what’s happening.”

The Host tilted his head. “They are the Host’s narrations. It’s how he sees without his eyes. The Host is able to glimpse just a little bit of the future, just enough to tell where he is and what is happening. He doesn’t need them much to move about the manor anymore, he’s long since memorized the layout, unless he is feeling particularly emotional.”

“Wait, but I-I-I thought you could only see the future when you were having one of your visions.”

The Host smiled. “The Host is always living in the future, if only by less than a second. It is his…‘gift’.”

He withdrew his hands from Eric’s body, and Dr. Iplier handed him something to wipe his hands off on as he began to wrap Eric’s torso in bandages once more, albeit a bit awkwardly with only one hand still. “Fucking  _cast!_  I can’t  _wait_  to get this thing off in a week! Anyway, you’re both all set! You can go back to whatever you were doing before you showed up here, I have paperwork to do.”

Dr. Iplier wandered off deeper into his office after pressing another quick kiss to the Host’s lips. The Host made to stand, but Eric caught his sleeve, keeping him in place. He turned his head, tilting it slightly and raising an eyebrow as Eric struggled to find the right words. “Um, a-about your…your eyes…I don’t…I don’t think it’s self-inflicted.” The Host’s lips parted in surprise as Eric continued. “I-if the – if  _he_  is a different person from you, th-then you didn’t do it to yourself,  _he_ did it to you. It’s…you’re like me.”

Eric offered him a small smile. The Host remained frozen, trying to hold back his tears because blood usually came with them and Dr. Iplier would be  _pissed_  if he had to change his bandages again so soon. He swallowed harshly, not quite sure what to say. “The Host…he has never thought of it that way before. He…supposes he and Eric match, then. At least, for the time being.”

Eric fidgeted for a moment, and then he was pulling the Host into a hug, burying his face in his shoulder. The Host started, hesitating a moment before wrapping his arms around Eric in return, careful to be gentle against his bruises. Eventually, Eric pulled back, putting his shirt back on before standing and moving toward the door. He cast one last look over his shoulder before he exited Dr. Iplier’s office.

The Host remained seated on the bed, staring after him. A swirl of emotions were spinning inside him, tightening in his chest like a knot. The first broken sob escaped him, and in a flash Dr. Iplier was by his side, pulling him into another tight hug and whispering soothing things into his ear. “Shh, hey, it’s okay! It’s okay…”

The Host just gripped him back, sobbing dryly. “Eric’s right – the Host –  _he’s right_.” He didn’t know whether he was crying with relief from the knowledge that  _he didn’t do this to himself_ or whether it was from the sudden slap in the face and the reaffirmation that he was broken and abused, the Author having left him with irreparable scars. So he just shook in Dr. Iplier’s hold, fisting his coat in his hands as he tried to get himself under control.

He could feel Dr. Iplier peppering soft kisses to the side of his throat, helping in grounding him. “Hey, it’s okay, Host! You’ll be okay! It’s just a different perspective.”

The Host pulled away at last, but only to resituate himself with his face buried in Dr. Iplier chest, pulling him down into the bed. Dr. Iplier curled around him protectively, sighing into his hair. “The Host…the Host would like to stay here with Dr. Iplier. At least until he collects himself.”

Dr. Iplier just tightened his grip on him, intertwining their legs. “I’ll stay with you as long as you need. Paperwork’s boring, and you’re much more important.”

The Host gave a small laugh, his breathing calming but his mind still spinning wildly. He just burrowed against Dr. Iplier further, sighing against his chest.

If Dr. Iplier was there, he'd be alright.

**Author's Note:**

> Pure, pure Eric. Pure Host. And then bitchy Dr. Iplier in the background. I love this. My son and the cinnamon roll go good together. ANYWAY, Wednesday will be ALL fluff! Some wedding preparation'll go down ;)


End file.
